Thin Red Line
by Shanaqui
Summary: The war's not over until everyone stops fighting.
1. Chapter 1

_It's easy to get them. They're unprepared. Not scared yet. But they will be, oh, they will be. A garotte isn't his favoured method but it'll do just fine. Or maybe he should shove the cowboy's own gun down his throat and make it look like some clumsy suicide. But no. Suicide isn't the way out for the precious heroes. A heroes death it is -- killed by the one they subdued. Thought they subdued. But he's not subdued and he's not alone._

They'll be scared soon.

----

"It's -- kind of hard to believe."

Squall nods slightly, his eyes on the stream of people passing through to pay last respects, and his nod dismisses the girl with a bunch of flowers in her hand. He's holding Irvine's gun himself, planning on going to put it in the coffin for him to go with. Not that he thinks Irvine has any use for it anymore -- he's dead. But the sentimental gesture might help people say goodbye, so Squall will do it, for them. And he'd sort of like someone to do the same for him, one day, and put Lionheart into his coffin.

Hopefully that day is still far off, he thinks, a wry smile twisting the corners of his mouth. He shakes his hair out of his eyes and watches the people move to sit down, watches the slow measured pace of a funeral with his hand gripping Exeter tight.

They told him that as Irvine's Commander, he should say some words. But Irvine didn't die on some mission. He died in Balamb Town, starting his walk back to Garden after a night with some girl who is crying in the front row of seats now.

He was murdered.

Squall doesn't have anything to say about that. There's no bravery in that. And he can't help the little stirring of contempt that Irvine could be silenced, choked off, _removed_ so easily. There was no signs of even a fight. He could say _that_, but people would be horrified, so he chooses to stay silent.

It seems an age before he can go and do what he came to the funeral to do, and place Exeter in Irvine's cold dead hand.

The hand that, when Irvine was found, a note was found, too. Squall can't help but think that as he leans down to close cold fingers around cold metal. "Sleep well," he mutters to Irvine, because he does look like he's sleeping, and it seems that he has to say _something_. And then he turns away.

Dincht is next.

That's what the note had said, and it's in Squall's pocket now, barely a scrap of paper but still so significant that Squall thinks of it as he walks, fancies he can hear it crumpling, maybe tearing, in his pocket. He goes to his office and waits, waits for Quistis to show up and while he waits he smooths the note out on his desk and stares at the handwriting as if that'll tell him who did it.

It might, of course.

Zell is out on a mission, now. Squall knows that without looking at his little list of who is where that he demanded a week after the war ended. All organised, cold and smooth and efficient. The way, in fact, that it should be. Mercenary forces don't have time for disorganisation.

Quistis knocks at the door, sounding a little hesitant, and Squall realises after a second how he analyses every knock now, learns to know before people step through the door what he has to deal with. A loud rap from some obnoxious cadet in trouble again, a quiet little tap from some slender young girl with a problem and the saddest eyes Squall has seen in a while. A quick, decisive knock from Xu, and, right now, a quick tap that's just loud enough and just quick enough to show that Quistis has hesitated outside the door for a moment.

Never thought when he became a SeeD he'd have to read people so well in anything but battle. But half of this _is_ a battle.

"Come in, Quistis."

She does. She sits down, smoothing her skirt carefully and tucking her hair behind her ears, back straight and stiff as an iron pole. Professional, Squall appreciates, her grief taken up and tucked away beneath her uniform and carefully pinned hair and bland, flat smile.

He shoves the little scrap of paper across the polished wood of his desk towards her. "This note was in Irvine's hand when he was found."

"Have you sent someone to warn Zell?"

"Yes."

"Do we know anything else?"

Squall shrugs slightly, leaning back in his chair and letting his thoughts settle back on the tracks they've been running on since he saw the note. "Someone is obviously targeting our group, whether it be the group of people who went to the Orphanage or because we fought Ultimecia. It would be interesting to see if Rinoa has been threatened."

"Either way, wouldn't Seifer be the biggest suspect?"

Squall thinks of Seifer now, the way he is in class, quiet and subdued and sat in the corner getting on with work for the first time in his life. "It doesn't seem to go with the attitude he's been showing since we accepted him back into Garden."

"But we can't rule him out."

"Exactly."

"What do you suggest, then?"

He shrugs again. People always seem to think he has the answers -- they ask him for solutions, suggestions, a bit of a hand with thinking things through and he ends up thinking out the whole line of it. It's easy to know what to suggest now, though. "Be careful. Be on your guard. All of us need to be."

"Of course. Is there anything else?"

"Make sure the others all know what's going on. Don't go anywhere alone. And... keep an eye on the rumour mill. Don't let it get out of hand, but at the same time, let it run a little."

Squall has learned the value of gossip. The tiniest snippet lends hints to the temperature of Garden, the current attitudes and the little day to day realignments of alliances and lines drawn between and within groups. It helps, to keep an eye on that.

Quistis nods slightly. "Have a good night, Squall."

"You too."

She closes the door behind her on her way out with a little click, and Squall settles back into his thoughts, following them to their logical conclusion again and again and always fetching up against the same objection. 


	2. Chapter 2

_Looks fragile, sleeping like that, all cuddled up under his blankets. Kinda pretty. Not scared yet, still not scared, but there's time enough for that. All the time in the world. And he can be patient when it comes to this, slow machinations to get the reactions he wants. He was always good at manipulation -- manipulating and being manipulated, no difference._

Not long now.

----

A single squeak from the door and the sound of a footstep and Squall rolls, first to one side to close his hand around Lionheart's hilt and then to the other, snapping on the light and bringing the gunblade up to point at the chest of the intruder. Seifer looks startled, his green eyes wide, and then he bites his lip. "Squall -- "

"It's _you_? I thought -- "

"No, Squall, it -- "

"What's that?"

Seifer sighs and steps back a little from the gunblade prodding him in the chest, carefully. He runs a hand through his hair and glances at the note he's holding, his eyes narrowing just a touch as he tries to figure out what it says without showing off his squint. "A note. Not signed. Says 'how about Trepe now? Or Tilmitt?'. I'm just -- "

Squall doesn't listen to Seifer. Instead, his thoughts go to the list of who will be where that he drew up in preparation for the next week, and the fact that within the next week, both Selphie and Quistis will be on the same train to Deling on two unrelated and fairly unimportant missions. And the fact that no one from outside Garden could know that, only him and Xu and anyone who had been in either office for punishment and might've chanced to see --

He lifts Lionheart just a little more, stepping closer to Seifer so the blade rests against the side of his neck. He narrows his eyes a little and tries to keep his voice dead of emotion, but vaguely threatening all the same. "Why, Seifer?"

Seifer's eyes, in contrast, widen a little. "I just told you -- I'm not the one doing it."

"Tell the truth, Seifer."

Seifer swallows hard and the blade moves against his neck, razor sharp and sharper, leaving a thin red line of blood on his neck, nothing more than a warning. "I didn't do it, Squall. I'm just the messenger boy. I... shit, you _know_ I'm trying to keep my head down. Doing anything more now would be pointless after what I did in the war, and I got my ass kicked then so why should I do something so stupid now?"

"Who else could it be, then?"

"I don't know -- shit, Squall, would you let me breathe properly?"

Reluctantly, Squall lowers the blade, but keeps his eyes focused on Seifer, letting his general body go out of focus a little, ready to notice the tiniest movement. The tiniest danger.

"I don't know who it is. I'm sorry. I didn't see them. I just found this note in my room and figured I should bring it to you."

"Why should I believe you?"

Squall plays for time, now, watching Seifer's actions and Seifer's eyes, waiting for some betrayal of guilt even though he doesn't think he'll find one. He'd know, he thinks, if Seifer was doing it. There'd be a gunblade involved, not a garotte. It'd be a public spectacle, not something limited to the darkness of some parts of Balamb town at midnight. But, on the other hand --

On the other hand, there is no _real_ evidence that it isn't Seifer. There's no one else Squall can actually think of who would want to kill the children from the Orphanage or the people who had fought Ultimecia, whichever it happens to be precisely. And Seifer is standing there, in his room, with a note that is, apparently, connected to the murder of Irvine and the potential murder of Quistis and Selphie.

"Squall..."

There's something suspicious about a faintly pleading tone coming from Seifer that makes Squall wonder. It doesn't fit with the knight and the bloody gunblade and the arrogant cut of a trenchcoat. It makes Squall narrow his eyes a little and almost start raising the blade again, makes him want to demand to know what the hell is going on and why and why Seifer is killing his friends.

Before he can, though, there's a loud knock on the door that makes Seifer jump a lot and even makes Squall flinch a little. "Yes?"

"Commander?"

Squall stifles his impatience and manages not to ask who the hell else would answering from inside his room with his voice. It takes an effort and an eyeroll, though. "Yes, it's me."

"Commander, it's Xu."

"And?"

She clears her throat and then he catches the breathlessness that might be from emotion rather than running and curses, going over to the door and jerking it open. Xu's eyes are wet as she looks up at him. "We got a note, sir."

He has the distinct feeling that he should comfort her, but he isn't sure how, so he settles for nodding slightly and pointedly ignoring Seifer's presence at his back, hoping Xu will follow his example. "Yes?"

"It's Zell, sir."

"We got a message from him?"

"He's dead."

The words squeeze around his throat for just a moment and then he _thinks_ he can breathe properly and his chest isn't _quite_ constricting with the kind of grief that crawls into your insides and stays there, heavy, thick and unbudging. He likes -- liked Zell. More than most people. He was -- one of them.

And that, he thinks, grimly, was the problem.

He flicks his eyes to Seifer and holds his hand out for the note, nodding at Xu. "Get everyone in my office, I'll be there shortly."

"Of course, sir."

Her heels click off down the hall, and he ignores the fact that there were tears shimmering on her cheeks. He turns to Seifer and takes the note from him. "I guess that puts you safe from the blame. Go to bed. And don't deliver notes again."

"No, sir," Seifer says, almost meekly, but his eyes glitter a little. 


	3. Chapter 3

_She sits there like a hound on a leash. Pretty and sleek and empty all on her own, no purpose without Garden, without the race and tussle. Beautiful. Alert. But not alert enough, not scared enough, and soon she'll die. And the girl beside her, all life and sunshine, unsuspecting and never fearing. Almost a pity, but of course, it's not, and not a waste, because they saw what they shouldn't see._

Squall will be scared, soon. That's the thought he lives and breathes, Squall will be scared soon_, and vengeance will be his._

Soon.

----

"This bit of the countryside is really pretty."

Quistis turns her head slightly to look out of the window, leaning forward a little and noting that Selphie is smiling but not _smiling_, not quite putting her heart into it. Quistis just smiles, too, and nods, leaning back again and trying to relax. It's hard to relax, though, considering everything that's happened, what should happen next.

"I'm a little scared," Selphie says, after a moment, still kneeling on the seat and staring outside at the scenery. Quistis starts to reach up and then thinks better of it, watching Selphie be like glass and afraid to touch her in that vulnerable moment, in case --

"Yeah," she says, softly, because the moment demands at least that.

"I mean. Everything that's happening. Everything that's happened. Irvine... and Zell, of course. It's all a little..."

"Overwhelming?"

Selphie turns and settles into her seat with a little shiver running through her, evident in the tiny shudder of her skinny shoulders. "Yeah. Overwhelming. And scary. And I'm thinking 'what if' all the time, and -- "

Quistis takes her hand this time and squeezes, smiling just a little. "We'll be fine. You know we will."

"Yeah, of course." Selphie moves a little closer, and then rests her head against Quistis' shoulder, closing her eyes. Quistis is just closing her eyes when it happens, just prepared to relax a little, and...

The train stops with a jerk.

"Tsk, tsk, Trepe, sleeping on the job?"

She knows the voice. She knows it and doesn't know it, recognises it as a parody of what she once knew. She doesn't raise her head, but her hand tightens on Selphie's, making sure she's awake, starting to reach...

"Nuh-uh, Trepe, Tilmitt. Leave your weapons. I don't have any qualms about chopping your hands off."

Quistis looks up to see him there, his eyes glinting a little, and shudders slightly at the look on his face. Selphie moves beside her, the shiver of anticipation running through her again. She doesn't say anything.

"Come outside, ladies," Seifer says, with a nasty grin, "I'd hate to get blood on the upholstery."

"You control this train?"

"For now I do, yes. Move it, Trepe. I haven't got infinite patience and my friends can pay for something as stupid as a little blood on the train. It'd probably not be the first time it happened anyway."

Quistis and Selphie exchange a look and move, not even trying to reach their weapons laid out on the seats where they were sitting. Quistis helps Selphie out of the train and onto the small platform, balancing her carefully and moving back and away from the door as Seifer jumps out, Hyperion glinting in the sunshine as he swings it up to put the tip of the blade under Quistis' chin.

"You know, it's kind of a pity..."

"Yeah," Zell says with a little click of a gun, leaning over a little on the roof of the train so that Seifer sees him and offering him a tiny grin, "a damned pity you killed our sniper. I'm not good with a gun, so I can't promise it'll be painless... but you'll die in the end, right?"

"Dincht?!"

"Thanks, Zell," Quistis says, softly, stepping away from Seifer's gunblade and carefully relieving him of it.

"You're..."

Squall's voice is quiet as he steps from another of the train carriages into theirs, his eyes narrowed and intense."Alive? Yes, he is. Something I found in a book about sorceresses explained all of this to me. With Ultimecia's death, you were torn. The boy you'd been, once, and the broken man she'd made you. You couldn't revert but you couldn't carry on as you were. So you were both."

Seifer's jaw firms and he clenches his fist, only just realising that Quistis has taken Hyperion from him. "Shut up, Leonhart. I don't need a gunblade to kill you."

"You didn't manage to kill Zell, so I don't hold much faith in your ability."

"How did...?"

Quistis carefully moves behind Squall, putting Hyperion down on the floor, out of hope of Seifer reaching it. Selphie goes into the train and brings out their weapons, flinging Quistis' whip over to her so she can guard the gunblade properly. Squall watches them and nods to Quistis when she's done, letting her speak. "When we got the note on Irvine's body, we immediately sent a SeeD to warn Zell. The message about Zell's death came back before that messenger, but when the messenger returned, we found that Zell _wasn't_ dead."

"When you say someone's dead, you gotta make sure they are, y'know? The contract was from someone who would just kill me during my 'mission'. Unfortunately, thanks to the warning, they couldn't find me, and sent a premature note, sure they could find me in time and make it true. I got the warning and headed right back to Garden."

There's a moment of silence after that, and then Seifer draws himself up straight and runs a hand through his blond hair. "Right. But how did you know it was me?"

Zell's grin is a little sinister. "Turns out some of your friends aren't so friendly after being threatened with broken bones."

Squall rolls his eyes and makes a sign to Zell to come down from the roof. "Seifer?"

"What?"

"We're going to help you, you know. You'll have to serve time for killing Irvine," and the note of emotion is almost subdued in his voice, _almost_, "but we'll make sure your... condition is taken into account."

For a moment, Quistis thinks Seifer's going to hit Squall, and then his shoulders sag and he doesn't say anything. Squall turns to them, giving orders, congratulating quietly and generally filling the role of commander better than anyone ever thought he would.

"I'm sorry," Seifer says, and Squall looks up, startled, and sees the transformation from a younger, vulnerable Seifer to a half-crazed knight without a sorceress, "sorry I didn't kill you _first_." 


End file.
